AURAS
An Essay On The
MEANING OF COLORS
By
Edgar Cayce
-r ARE PRESS ASSOCIATION FOR RESEARCH AND ENLIGHTENMENT
A.R.E. Press • Virginia Beach • Virginia
Copyright © 1945, 1973
by the
Association for Research and Enlightenment, Inc.
Assigned to the Edgar Cayce Foundation, 1978
All rights reserved,
ISBN 87604-012-1
43rd Printing, November 2002
Printed in Canada
P R E F A C E
The essay herein contained is the last labor to which Edgar Cayce put his hand. The color chart was returned to me with corrections in his own hand awkwardly written. With it was a note, also written in longhand. “I cannot use my typewriter,” it said. “I have lost the use of my left arm and my right leg is numb. I presume I have had a slight stroke.”
That was in September. A month before, on my porch here in Clearwater, while we watched the porpoises sporting in the Gulf of Mexico and admired the spectacular sunsets, the booklet was planned. The human aura was one of our favorite subjects of conversation; whenever we got together I questioned him about his ability to see colors emanating from persons, and he always had some new and interesting anecdotes concerning this strange power, which because it functioned while he was fully conscious, in many, many ways intrigued him more than his gift for giving readings. At least it entertained him more at the moment it was taking place, for despite all the readings he gave, he never heard one. During all of the most interesting portions of his life he was asleep.
We were in the process of working out a new publication program during this visit, and it occurred to me that a short but instructive article on auras would be helpful to members of the Association, particularly if it carried Mr. Cayce’s interpretation of the colors, worked out over a long period of years by patient trial and error. I made the suggestion to him, and he gave me the usual answer—that he didn’t know enough about the subject, had no background in it, etc., ad infinitum. He had a very low opinion of anything he said while awake. I then put it differently. I asked him if he would collaborate with me, and since he apparently had not the power to refuse me anything I asked (any more than he had the power to refuse anyone else) he said yes.
We set to work immediately, right there on the porch, and I began making notes. By the time the text was ready he had returned to Virginia Beach, had fallen ill, and was at Roanoke resting. Early in December he was brought home to the house on Arctic Crescent. There, on the night of January 3, 1945, he passed away.
I remember him from those August days for so many things. He was so thin and tired and wistful. Yet his face lighted with transcendent joy when he saw me enter the water and slosh away on my own, swimming on my back in the warm, still water. He loved the Australian pines in front of our cottage, and wanted to have some sent to Virginia Beach, to plant along the lake behind the house. He was disappointed when he learned that they would not flourish that far north.
“Then I will have to come down here,” he said. “You find a place, and we will get it together. I can rest here. I dreamed the other night that I was on a train coming to Florida. I had retired, and was going to live here.”
I urged him to remain longer with me; I pressed him to give up the interminable, punishing hours he put in at the mounting stacks of correspondence. I suggested that he spend his time fishing and gardening, except for the periods when the readings were given. But these requests were to him unreasonable. In the letters which came to him were tales of misfortune and suffering. Each was a cry for help. He would have heard it as well in the garden or on the dock. If he could have answered it at once he would not have minded so much. But when he had to put off the reading—at first for weeks, then for months, then for a year or more, his heart was heavy and his mind became numb with the burden of his helplessness. Though he stayed asleep longer than ever before and pushed his output of readings to unprecedented heights, he could make but a small dent in the pile of requests. It was this more than anything which broke him.
On the day he left we drove with him as far as Lakeland. Along the way we stopped and ate a picnic lunch. Together we rehearsed our plans: publication and research were gradually to work their way to the fore of the Association’s work, giving to everyone the wisdom and instruction of the readings.
Gradually he was to slacken his own work until it was devoted mainly to general readings on research subjects and for guidance and instruction. In this way the best that he had to give would be available to all. That way he would live long and help everyone, we were sure.
At Lakeland he stepped from the car and turned to smile at me and squeeze my hand. “Well, when we meet again we’ll have everything worked out fine,” he said. October was the date we had set. He would return then for a longer rest.
But the dreams that came to him here in our sunshine, and the whispers he heard in the Australian pines, were promises from another land. He will rest there, and just as he said, when we meet again we’ll have everything worked out fine.
Two days after his death the proofs of this booklet arrived. In them is his final message, a plea for faith, hope, and charity, and above all, the courage and wisdom to engage in what Stephen MacKenna described as, “an active mental life, with a little love to warm it.” For the burden of all the readings is the necessity for man to take up his cross—’ ‘Mind is the builder: knowledge not lived becomes sin; in every person of whatever station look not for things to criticize, but for something you adore in your Creator; for you will not enter the kingdom of heaven, except leaning upon the arm of someone you have helped.”
—Thomas Sugrue
Clearwater Beach, Fla.,
January 15, 1945.
NOTE: Thomas Sugrue, author of There is a River, the authoritative biography of Edgar Cayce, was the victim of a rare paralytic disease, and was saved from complete immobility and almost certain death by Mr. Cayce’s “readings” for him. This preface, written a few days after Edgar Cayce’s death, reveals the deep personal and spiritual bond between the two men.
EVER SINCE I can remember I have seen colors in connection with people. I do not remember a time when the human beings I encountered did not register on my retina with blues and greens and reds gently pouring from their heads and shoulders. It was a long time before I realized that other people did not see these colors; it was a long time before I heard the word aura, and learned to apply it to this phenomenon which to me was commonplace. I do not ever think of people except in connection with their auras; I see them change in my friends and loved ones as time goes by—sickness, dejection, love, fulfillment—these are all reflected in the aura, and for me the aura is the weathervane of the soul. It shows which way the winds of destiny are blowing.
Many people are able to see auras; many have had experiences similar to mine—not knowing for many years that it was something unique. One of my friends, a lady, who is a member of the Association told me this:
All during my childhood I saw colors in connection with people, but did not realize that it was uncommon. One day the appearance of a woman in our neighborhood struck me as odd, though I could not for the moment see anything strange about her. When I got home it suddenly struck me that she had no colors about her. Within a few weeks this woman died. That was my first experience with what I have learned to look upon as a natural action of nature.
Apparently the aura reflects the vibrations of the soul. When a person is marked for death the soul begins to withdraw and the aura naturally fades. At the end there is only a slim connection and the break is easy. I have heard that when people died suddenly, in accidents, the passing was very difficult because the way had not been prepared.
A person’s aura tells a great deal about him, and when I understood that few people saw it and that it had a spiritual significance, I began to study the colors with an idea of discovering their meaning. Over a period of years I have built up a system which from time to time I have checked with other persons who see auras. It is interesting to note that in almost all interpretation these other people and I agree. We only differ with regard to the colors which are in our own auras. This is curious, for it shows how universal are nature’s laws. We know that opposites attract and likes repel. Well, I have a lot of blue in my aura and my interpretation of this color does not always jibe with that of a person whose aura does not contain it and who therefore interprets it objectively. One lady I know has a great deal of green in her aura, and she is inclined to dislike green in the aura of others, and place a disagreeable interpretation on it, whereas it is the color of healing and a fine one to have.
Occasionally I have found in books devoted to occult sciences, definitions of colors, and these are generally in accord with what I have found by experience to be true. The reading of any particular aura, however, is a skill that is gained over a long period of time by constant observation and endless trial and error. The intermingling of the colors, their relationship one to another, and the dominance of one over the other, are matters which must be considered before rendering a judgment. I am generally better able to “read” persons I know than strangers, although certain general characteristics of the strangers, strike me immediately. But to be helpful I find it best to know the individual. Then I can tell him when I see the twinkling lights of success and achievement, or warn him when melancholy or illness, threaten. Of course I do not (In this professionally. I would not think of such a thing. But I believe it is an ability which all people will someday possess, and therefore I want to do what I can to get folks used to the idea of auras, so they will think in terms of auras, so they will begin to attempt to see themselves.
I have been told that with proper equipment it is possible for almost anyone to see an aura. Equipment has been built for this purpose, and I once met a professor who said that he not only had seen auras but in his laboratory had measured and weighed them.
Where do the colors come from, and what makes them shift and change? Well, color seems to be a characteristic of the vibration of matter, and our souls seem to reflect it in this three-dimensional world through atomic patterns. We are patterns, and we project colors, which are there for those who can see them.
In his remarkable book, Pain, Sex, and Time, Gerald Heard, speaking of the evidence for the evolution of consciousness, points out that our ability to see colors is expanding. The easiest color to see, as you know, is red. At that end of the spectrum the waves of light are long. At the other end, where blue runs into indigo and violet, the waves are short. According to Heard, who is a reliable scholar, our ability to see blue is very recent. Natives who live on the Blue Nile in Africa do not know it by that name. Their title for it, when translated, means brown. Homer, all through the Iliad and Odyssey, describes the Mediterranean as the “wine- dark sea.” Mr. Heard says that apparently Homer caught “the slight tinge of red in the purple of the Mediterranean,” but did not see its predominant blue. Aristotle, moreover, said that the rainbow had only three colors: red, yellow and green. We all know that perspective in painting is recent, and it is apparently undeveloped in many primitive people to this day, for travelers in the remote Pacific Islands have found that natives looking at motion pictures are unable to perceive anything but a flat surface—their eyes cannot give three-dimensionality to the pictures.
So it would seem that our eyes gradually are gaining in power. I have heard many people comment on the prevalence of spectacles among our civilized people. They have seemed to consider this a bad thing. Could it be that it is a result of constant straining on the part of our eyes to see more and to bring us to the next step of evolution! I think this is true and will be recognized in the future. The Japanese, for instance, are just emerging from a medieval civilization, and in attempting to see the things we already perceive they have strained their eyes so that most every one of them wears glasses.
What will it mean to us if we make this next evolutionary step? Well, it will mean that we can see auras. What will this mean? I am going to answer that by telling two experiences of a friend of mine who is able to see auras.
This person, a woman, told me this:
Whenever a person, whether it be a stranger, an intimate friend, or a member of my family, decides to tell me an untruth, or to evade a direct and frank answer to a question of mine, I see a streak of lemony green shoot through his aura, horizontally, just over his head. I call it gas-light green, and I have never known it to fail as an indication of evasion or falsification. I was a school teacher for many years, and my students marveled at my ability to catch them in any detour from the truth.
Imagine what that will mean—everyone able to see when you plan to tell them a lie, even a little white one. We will all have to be frank, for there will no longer be such a thing as deceit!
Now let me tell you the other incident.
One day in a large city I entered a department store to do some shopping. I was on the sixth floor and rang for the elevator. While I was waiting for it I noticed some bright red sweaters, and thought I would like to look at them. However, I had signaled for the elevator, and when it came I stepped forward to enter it. It was almost filled with people, but suddenly I was repelled. The interior of the car, although well-lighted, seemed dark to me. Something was wrong. Before I could analyze my action I said, “Go ahead,” to the operator, and stepped back. I went over to look at the sweaters, and then I realized what had made me uneasy. The people in the elevator had no auras. While I was examining the sweaters, which had attracted me by their bright red hues—the color of vigor and energy—the elevator cable snapped, the car fell to the basement, and all the occupants were killed.
You see what the knack of seeing auras will mean when it becomes a common ability. Danger, catastrophe, accidents, death, will not come unannounced. We will see them on their way as did the prophets of old; and as the prophets of old we will recognize and welcome our own death, understanding its true significance.
It is difficult to project ourselves into such a world, a world where people will see each other’s faults and virtues, their weaknesses and strength, their sickness, their misfortunes, their coming success. We will see ourselves as others see us and we will be an entirely different type of person, for how many of our vices will persist when all of them are known to everyone!
One more comment on the possibilities of the future; then we will return to the more mundane present. Another person who sees auras once told me this:
If I am talking to a person and he makes a statement of opinion which reflects a prejudice gained in one of his former lives, I see as he speaks a figure in his aura, which is a reflection of the personality he was in that time—I see, that is, the body of a Greek, or an Egyptian, or whatever he happened to be. As soon as we pass on to another subject and the opinion gained in that incarnation passes, the figure disappears. Later he will express another view. Perhaps he will say, “I have always loved Italy and wanted to go there,” and as he speaks I will see the figure of a Renaissance man or an old Roman. During the course of an afternoon’s conversation I may see six or eight of these figures.
Well, what is that but a Life Reading, except for the interpretations and judgments? It sounded so strange when I heard it that I was inclined to be skeptical, until one evening at dusk when, sitting on the porch of a friend’s house, I saw the thing myself. My friend was speaking earnestly to a group of people, and he made some interpretation of English history. In his aura I saw the figure of a young monk, and I recalled that in his Life Reading this friend had been identified as a monk in England.
“But what do auras mean to the majority of people, who cannot see them,” you ask? Well, the majority of people do see them, I believe, but do not realize it. I believe anyone can figure out what another person ‘a aura is in a general way, if he will take note of the colors which a person habitually uses in the matter of clothing and decoration. How many times have you said of a woman, “Why does she wear that color? It does not suit her at all.” How many times have you said, “How beautiful she looks in that dress. The color is just right for her. She was made to wear it.” In both cases you have been reading an aura. The first woman was wearing a color which clashed with her aura. The second woman was wearing a color which harmonized with her aura. All of you know what colors are helpful to your friends, and bring out the best in them. They are the colors that beat with the same vibrations as the aura, and thus strengthen and heighten it. By watching closely you can even discover changes in your friends as they are reflected in a shift in the color predominating in their wardrobe.
Let me give you an example, one that has to do with health as it is indicated in the aura. I knew a man who from boyhood wore nothing but blue — frequently I have seen him with a blue suit, blue shirt, blue tie, and even blue socks. One day he went into a store to buy some ties. He was surprised to find that he had selected several which were maroon in color. He was even more surprised when as time went on, he began to choose shirts with garnet stripes and ties and pocket handkerchief sets in various shades of scarlet. This went on for several years, during which time he became more nervous and more tired. He was working too hard and eventually he had a nervous breakdown.
During this time the red had grown in prominence in his aura. Now gray, the color of illness, began to creep into the red, but as he recovered, the gray disappeared and then the blue began to eat up the red. Eventually all the red was consumed and he was well. Nor did he ever afterward wear anything red, scarlet, or maroon.
In another case a woman who ordinarily wore greens and yellows, went to a dress shop which she had patronized for years. The proprietress brought out several dresses but seemed perplexed when the lady tried them on. “I don’t know what it is,” the proprietress said, “but you need something red or pink. I have never thought you could wear those colors hut something in you seems to call for them now.” The lady eventually bought a dress with red stripes. Within a month she was in a hospital, suffering from a nervous condition. She recovered, and continued to patronize the same dress shop, but the proprietress never again suggested that she wear red or pink.
Red
Red is the first of the primary colors and in ancient symbolism it represented the body, the earth, and hell, all three of which meant the same thing in the old mystery religions. The earth was the irrational world into which the soul descended from heaven. The body was the earth form which held the soul captive. Heaven was blue, and the spirit was blue. The mind was associated with yellow. It is interesting that in some systems of metaphysics blue is considered to be the true color of the sun; that is, if we could be outside earth we would see the sun as a blue light—soft, powerful, and spiritual. The yellow color is supposed to result from the collision of the sun’s rays with the atmosphere of earth. Since the greatest spiritual weapon of man is his intellect, it is natural that mind be associated with the sun’s color in this world.
As to the meaning of red, it indicates force, vigor and energy. Its interpretation depends upon the shade, and as with all colors, upon the relationship of other colors. Dark red indicates high temper, and it is a symbol of nervou...
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